


all it takes

by FukuSencho



Category: New Game! (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Co-workers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, Gossip, Off-screen Relationship(s), Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FukuSencho/pseuds/FukuSencho
Summary: Aoba kisses Hifumi. Or, the way the rest of the office finds love because a young woman in pigtails took one step forward.





	1. Nene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuugenthefox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuugenthefox/gifts).



> Anime hell is easy to fall into. Welcome to the next "cute girls doing cute things" hell - so much fun! Reading Kuugenthefox's newest addition to the fandom's fanfiction archive (and a shower) actually gave me the kick I needed to do this, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed/am enjoying writing it. The first two chapters are done, but I'll only post the first one for now.
> 
> Note that the second person POV changes with each chapter, but I think I've made it obvious enough. I suppose this is more a character exploration and in-depthification than anything else. I love the New Game! characters, so I hope I've done them justice. They're probably all very OOC, though. Ugh... Well, onwards and upwards!

“I kissed her, Nenecchi!” a voice shouts in a panic, but those aren’t the four words you expect to hear at two in the morning, so you think you can be forgiven for hanging up. When the phone rings again twelve seconds later, you realise that’s not the case.

 

Your phone falls as you reach out for it, numb fingers sending it to the floor instead of into your hand; subsequently, you find yourself half on the carpet and half in bed, answering for no other reason than to shut it up. The little green symbol disappears from the screen as you swipe to the right, sleepily mumbling, “Hello?” into what you think is the speaker.

 

A sniff. “Nenecchi?”

 

Something clicks – the nickname? The awkwardly timid voice? – and you find yourself wondering what could possibly have put your best friend in such a state. You pull your feet out of bed and push yourself up against the wall, trying to force yourself awake.

 

“Aocchi. What’s wrong?” You’ve known each other so long that the uplift at the end of the sentence is only for show – asking _what’s wrong?_ isn’t a question, but an indication to the distressed party that you’re actually listening. Even now as she doesn’t say anything, you can hear her quiet hiccups and uneven breathing. You don’t even have to imagine the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks like marbles, or the dark, wet stains across her sleeves: Aocchi is anything if not predictable, and you’ve seen her cry hundreds of times. Even if it’s for a different reason, her misery always looks the same.

 

“I kissed her,” she whispers, and you consider the notion that it’s both funny and cruel that Aocchi is so expressive. It means she’s as trustworthy as she is transparent, but someone so kind should be allowed a few secrets to herself, you believe.

 

“Who?” you ask, very much redundantly.

 

There’s the almost inaudible sound of fabric rustling before it’s replaced by a dragging noise. Proof that Aocchi has run out of tissues or can’t bring herself to get some. Later, you’ll be half-amazed, half-horrified that you know someone well enough to interpret every sound they make. Now, you’re more concerned with the girl on the other end of the call.

 

“Hi – Hi-umi… n… pai,” she sobs, before breaking down in tears.

 

You don’t bother telling her that what you heard was mostly her making phlegmy noises interspaced by ununderstandable syllables; instead, you let her cry heartbrokenly into the receiver as you tug your legs closer to your body and wonder how she hasn’t noticed it yet. Takimoto- _san_ might not make her feelings as obvious as the rest of the people there – how dense is Yagami- _san_ , anyway? – but everyone can see it.

 

Everyone but Aocchi, apparently.

 

The line goes quiet without you noticing, so you’re startled back into the present when you catch your nickname being spoken ever so softly.

 

“Mm?” you respond, wondering if there is anything you can do for her.

 

“Nenecchi, I…”

 

She pauses.

 

It’s almost twenty past two. The second hand on your alarm clock glows faintly – white on black – as it moves across the radial lines painted at the edge. You’ve waited this long for her to say something; you think you can wait just a little bit longer.

 

“I think I’m in love with her.”

 

You expected it, this seriousness, but it still catches you by surprise.

 

And so, in true best friend fashion, you burst out laughing.


	2. Umiko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand lookie here! I finally finished the second installment of what is very quickly becoming the most time-consuming part of my life. Thanks for all the reviews and kudos and hits so far! 
> 
> I don't think I've hated writing a character more than Umiko - I hope I've got her personality mostly down-pat. Rewatched the anime and re-read the manga (sans those chapters about her and Nene going off on their little date) to do so, so here goes!
> 
> I know this doesn't have an actual update time, but for your patience, have almost 2,500 words in comparison to the 600 I had before I rewrote the whole chapter because Umiko was turning into a pile of diabetes. This is probably still diabetes-inducing. Bear with me. Texts (as in, phone-phone) are italicised and emboldened and in true texting style with the recipient on the left and the writer or the right.
> 
> On another note before we start: I don't know how I'm going to incorporate Hajime and Yun into this story, because they don't fit into the gossip passing through the office storyline currently in place unless I make an omake or something. Which means that I am busy on the next-best thing: a one-shot with just them set around the same time, from Yun's perspective. But more about that later. Or not. Please enjoy!

You’re beginning to regret giving Sakura- _san_ your phone number.

 

_It was on a whim_ , you tell yourself even as you’re well aware of the fact that you gave it to her because of… other reasons. The full picture for your motives is still not quite clear to you, but you know that Sakura- _san_ deserves a chance. One you can give her.

 

Beneath all that playfulness and high-pitched indignation, you have found someone who is diligent (when supervised properly), insightful (when not distracted), focused (when not being blamed for stealing) and compassionate (even when life gets tough). And someone who is, above all, talented. Someone whose innate ability you can hone and polish to perfection.

 

And somehow, also someone who is under the impression that you need more of her in your life, going by the number of pictures and texts about her daily life she sends you. The constant ringing (you set it to vibrate) and buzzing (you set it to silent) and flashing lights irritate you to no end, so within the first half-hour of your new-found cellular hell, your screen is in a thousand pieces, littered amongst hundreds of tiny yellow balls. But at least the phone is quiet. When you leave that evening, you find a single one lodged in the upper left corner of what remains of your screen; you’re disappointed – your aim’s off again.

 

\---------------

 

The next morning, another nuisance appears.

 

“Hey, Ahagon –”

 

Your aim is perfect this time (no thanks to a little late-night training). The pellet ricochets off the centre Kou- _san_ ’s forehead, hits the carpet and rolls until it finally comes to a stop near your foot. The temptation to blow on the barrel like they do in the movies is greater than you expected, but you resist the urge: seeing her curled up, clutching at her face is more than satisfying enough.

 

You wonder if you might need to start aiming elsewhere, though. Kou- _san_ probably needs all the brain cells she has left to get the fact that Tooyama- _san_ has been in love with her for years now through her thick skull. To be fair, if she hasn’t figured it out by now, she probably never will. You let off another few shots, just in case.

 

“Ow! Ow, ow! OW! What was _that_ for?” Kou- _san_ looks up at you from her perch next to your chair, all glistening blue puppy-dog eyes and messy blonde hair and – how is it _possible_ for someone as put-together as Tooyama- _san_ to have fallen in love with such an _idiot_? It irritates you, not knowing, but asking would be prying. For all you know, Tooyama- _san_ isn’t even aware of her oh-so-obvious feelings for the character designer (you doubt it – unlike her romantic counterpart, she has people perception), and inquiring would lead to even more awkwardness in the workplace. You have enough to deal with. No need to add a side of drama.

 

Back in your office, Kou- _san_ touches her forehead gingerly, winces, and shoots you half a glare. “That wasn’t necessary.”

 

You disregard her pain, moving right on with, “Why are you here, Kou- _san_?”

 

“I _work_ here.” Your hand twitches towards the spare magazine in you second desk drawer – a fact Kou- _san_ seems quite well-acquainted with, considering the way her eyes widen and her hand shoots out to keep you from opening it. “No, no, no, no, no – let’s not go there.”

 

This is testing your patience more than you need before your second cup of coffee. “Kou- _san_ ,” you start, making sure punctuate every word so she realises _exactly_ what she’ll be dealing with if it doesn’t end in the next minute, “What. Do. You. _Want_.”

 

She seems to get the hint… until you watch her pull her phone from a pocket in her – _how many days has she been wearing that?_ – skirt and proceed to ignore you. You’re about to return the favour when a bright screen lights up in front of you, blocking your exit.

 

You find your curiosity piqued, despite the blinding effect of the too-bright smartphone. It reminds you a bit of Sakura- _san_ with her happy-go-lucky attitude that detracts from her excellent observation skills. If only she could tone it down a little; she’d make a near-perfect debugger. You remind yourself to tell her that when you meet again.

 

Later, a tiny voice will tell you that you saying _when_ , not _if_ , means something.

 

Now, a loud voice is telling you something along the lines of, “Y’know, Aoba –”

 

“Suzukaze- _san_ was not here yesterday,” you interrupt.

 

Kou- _san_ looks at you with a mix of pity and irritation. She rolls her eyes for good measure before going on, “I _know_ that. She works in my department! Wait, how do you –”

 

“Get to the point.”

 

The screen is forced into your line of sight again. It’s easy to see ( _not really_ , you think as you narrow your eyes against the brightness) why Kou- _san_ always sports red eyes and Tooyama- _san_ carries refill bottles of eye drops. Maybe this is what the beginning of epilepsy feels like.

 

“It’s Aoba’s friend. Nene. The temporary token mini, just like her! Remember? Your personal favourite!”

 

“She’s not my –”

 

“Don’t interrupt.”

 

You’re desperately trying to avoid just smacking Kou- _san_ with your gun. There’s a twinge of regret you feel for emptying the magazine earlier, because now would be an excellent time to use it. Your grip on the airsoft weapon tightens and you repeat your mantra, _Think of Tooyama-_ san _, think of Tooyama-_ san _, think of Tooyama-_ san _, think of –_

 

“I need you to send something back to her.”

 

That stuns you out of your irritation. “What?”

 

Kou- _san_ looks exasperated. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”

 

You hope your glare answers the question. It does.

 

“Here,” she says, pressing her phone into your free hand. “Just… read them. You can give it back later. And send something back. That’s all she wants from you.” With that, Kou- _san_ leaves. Until a few seconds later, when she bursts back into your cubicle, brandishing a single finger at you to shout, “Don’t read anything else!” and runs off again to the sound of “Kou- _chan_! Be quiet!”

 

\---------------

 

You wait until lunchtime.

 

It’s not when you have lunch – you’re too busy programming simple bugs out of the basic code to actually sit down and eat anything – but it _is_ when everyone else is gone. Kou- _san_ ’s phone lies off to the left, where Sakura- _san_ used to sit, out of sight but not out of mind.

 

With a sigh, you pick it up, determined to get through whatever ordeal this has caused as quickly as possible before returning to the much simpler world of C++.

 

_INBOX – 149 messages. 32 unread._ You shudder, wondering how Kou- _san_ would cope if she actually had to open anything instead of being kept up-to-date by everyone else. Perishing the thought, you begin to read.

 

The messages are nothing special. Snippets of private conversations interspaced by questions about Suzukaze- _san_ and the others. Your name crops up. First once, then again a few messages later. And again. Then slightly more subtle. And again. Again.

 

**_How is Umiko-_ san _doing?_**

**_Is the programming team doing all right?_ **

****

**_Umiko-_ san _must have a lot on her plate. She hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent her._**

****

**_Hazuki-_ san _mentioned that the programming team will have to give a presentation on how far they’ve come. Please tell Umiko-_ san _‘good luck’. I can’t reach her._**

****

**_Yagami-_ san _, is Umiko-_ san _away attending a multi-week airsoft game? Aocchi said she hadn’t seen her around the office for a while._**

****

**_Please tell Umiko-_ san _I said hello._**

The genuine interest you pick up in the messages is striking. It’s something you think you’ve lost appreciation for, working in an environment where everyone is fairly honest and cares for each other’s well-being. There are other messages, ones not only about you, that show pictures of Sakura- _san_ at university with her friends and short notes on what she learned that day.

 

You begin to wonder what she sent you in the hundred or so mails you didn’t read before shooting your phone to smithereens, what it could have come to if you had actually replied. The occasional comment on a funny picture of her and a couple of her friends from university and short lists of recommendations on which programming languages have the most use could have turned into lengthy explanations about why airsoft is such a great sport and hour-long discussions on debugging after the beta-testing phase is over.

 

You imagine enjoying these quiet, typed conversations just as much as you enjoyed the face-to-face conversations you’ve had with her; probably because nobody else will argue with you about anything for too long before giving in. Except Kou- _san_ , who is more irritating than life itself, but she doesn’t count. She doesn’t belong to you.

 

_Neither does Sakura-_ san, you remind yourself.

 

Which is something you conveniently forget a few minutes later when you leave Kou- _san_ ’s phone on her desk with a short thank you note; the rest of the day is spent with short blonde pigtails and a childlike grin in the back of your mind. You won’t know it until much later, but they don’t ever leave.

 

\---------------

 

**_I’m sorry._ **

 

The words are profound coming from you, but seem most insincere when seen as black block letters on yet another bright white screen (“Good as new!” the young man at the cellphone repair station had said with a mildly terrified grin). Then, of course, there’s also the matter that she was being incredibly presumptuous with the – you consult your inbox – 27 messages she sent you over the course of just a few days. You’re beginning to consider just handing her another one of your airsoft guns with a hurried apology and your new number because all of that would be much simpler than trying to express atonement over binary code.

 

You hit send before you can find another good reason (or twelve) not to.

 

And you were going to start explaining yourself, until a buzzing sound alerts you to your newest reply:

 

**_I’ll forgive you on one condition._ ** **J**

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. Was Sakura- _san_ always so forward?

 

**_Which is?_ **

**_Don’t do it again. Please. Oh, and you have to reply to at least some of my messages!_ **

**_Those are two conditions._ **

****

This is fun, riling her up. It’s easy to imagine her puffed cheeks and the miffed look she likes using on you so much.

**_The one is dependent on the other!_ **

**_Pick one._ **

**_… the second one._ **

You pause for a moment, relishing the idea of having Sakura- _san_ waiting for your reply, until you remember that you’re just as dependent on hers. It isn’t often that you want something, but you want this. Whatever _this_ is.

 

**_Deal._ **

 

Something sparks the next arc of your conversation; you expect it to peter out over the course of an hour or so, but when you look up, your clock reads quarter to midnight and you have to force her to go to sleep so you can, too.

 

You’ve looked through all your messages and backlogged emails so there is nothing left for you to have missed. Which is why you find it strange when you find a single message from her, polluting your otherwise spotless screen:

 

**_Good night, Umiko-_ ** **san _._** **❤**

 

Your fingers are about to touch they keyboard and mail the same emoji back, but something keeps you from pressing send. It’s not that you don’t want to, not really. But you want time. Just a little longer to let this feeling grow and fill you up inside, all the way through.

 

_So, not yet_ , you think as you put your phone down on the nightstand; nevertheless, there’s a smile on your face that tells your heart, _but soon_.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

(NENE)

 

_This is easy_ , you think as you hide your smile in the sleeves of your oversized pyjama, clutching the phone to your chest as though that will make your feelings come through even better. What it actually does is type “Ohhhxddhrvf”, but that is easily removed as you backspace over the letters. You look at the conversation again, scrolling up to some of the more interesting parts, and correct yourself, _No, this is_ fun _._ A dumb grin begins creeping into the corners of your mouth, an action that is interrupted when an unannounced chat head opens up on your dimmed screen.

 

**_Hello! So, did anything happen?_ **

 

_Yagami-_ san! You’d almost forgotten about her in your glee about Umiko- _san_ ’s message, so you quickly type out a reply.

**_All (mostly) according to plan!_ **

****

**_That’s great! I’m glad it worked out!_ **

**_Please get her off my case._ **

**_But now I’ve done my bit – don’t you think it’s time for you to hand over your part of the bargain?_ **

**_You owe me._ **

 

You wonder how you ever roped Yagami- _san_ into this hare-brained scheme of yours to make Umiko- _san_ feel guilty enough to start talking to you again… then you remember the promise of telling her one easily-guessed fact and feel a little sorry for Tooyama- _san_ and her love for a dense brick wall.

 

**_So? What happened to Aoba that she didn’t come in yesterday?_ **

 

The opportunity is too good to pass up, and you decide to test the limits of Yagami- _san_ ’s romantic ignorance.

 

**_Aocchi kissed her last night._ **

 

The reply is as incredulous as it is immediate.

 

**_Who? Ahagon?_ **

 

You snicker and start thumbing out a reply in the vein of _she wishes_ , but it feels wrong to say that when it isn’t true – Aocchi _doesn’t_ wish for Umiko- _san_ ’s attention, just that of someone who is quite possibly more socially unavailable than Yagami- _san_ – so you backspace and emojify your incredulity.

**_Then who?_ **

The pity for Tooyama- _san_ strikes you again as you re-read the message. You wish her strength before deciding not to make this easy for her counterpart.

 

**_Can’t you guess?_ **

**_Oi, Nene, spill it. I had to give Ahagon my personal phone – who KNOWS what else she looked at while it was with her! There are things on there that should be kept private…_ **

****

**_I don’t suppose you have any naked pictures of Tooyama-_ san _on there, do you?_**

****

**_What? No._ **

**_Why would I have any of those?_ **

 

You want to bash your head against something

 

**_Aren’t you into Ahagon, anyway?_ **

**_Besides, Rin isn’t the kind of person who would let someone take pictures of her naked._ **

 

Doubt creeps into your mind at that statement. When you imagine exactly what Tooyama- _san_ would let Yagami- _san_ do to her if the latter reciprocated her feelings, you’re quite sure that her taking naked pictures is the least of the least. _Although_ , you think, _Tooyama-_ san _is classy_. Maybe not, then. Another message comes in.

 

**_Aaaah! Stop stalling! You promised!_ **

 

**_But it’s so obvious!_ **

**_Nene._ **

**_Tell me._ **

And that’s the voice that tells you enough with the fun and games. You relent.

 

**_She kissed_ her _._**

**_Hifumi-_ senpai.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's over. Now to writing characters whose personalities are much simpler to grasp! Like Mozuku. :D
> 
> This formatting had better work.


	3. Shizuku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only a day late in my not-really-a-schedule-of-nine-days-between-chapters! Well, it's up! And this is the part where everyone hates me just a little.
> 
> I'm aware that most of you are waiting impatiently for either the Kou/Rin reveal (this seems to be the most popular one) or the Aoba/Hifumi deal (probably because this story is supposed to be about them and all I'm doing is circumventing their whole romance), but I knew from the start that I wanted a slightly more angsty and introspective chapter that would give me the leeway to start the last two couple arcs (yeah, no. Chances are that Hajime and Yun will make a minor cameo appearance towards the end and then get their very own spinoff oneshot [still in progress]). Please bear with me.
> 
> Maybe Hazuki-san wasn't the best person to choose for it, considering her personality, but as someone who is a lot older and hyper-aware of what goes on in the workplace, I felt there was more to her character than just the playful auntie who is of absolutely no use in romantic situations. She keeps Rin on her toes, at least. But yes, possible OOC warning for the second half of the chapter - I think I got her personality down-pat in the first half! :D
> 
> And so, without further ado, the intermission/first chapter of the Kou/Rin arc!

_Umiko-_ kun _is smiling._

 

The thought is like the hundreds of others you have about your employees throughout the day – _Takimoto-_ kun _would look good in a_ gakuran and _Why are they not together yet?_ and _How do I convince the team to have the next vacation at the beach so I can see them all in bikinis?_ – mostly irrelevant and self-indulgent and forgotten two hot seconds afterwards. It’s only once you’re halfway to your office that it hits you.

 

_Umiko-_ kun _was_ smiling.

 

You rush back (discreetly, of course. You’re avoiding yet another meeting she wants to drag you to) and peer around the corner expectantly. _Good, she’s still there._ You have to strain your eyes and do a weird sort of tilt that allows your back remind you of your age, but her face is just coming into view and –

 

“What are you doing?”

 

– you jerk back like the wall has burnt you. At the same time, the low heel of your shoe loses its grip and there’s an awful sound like the carpet ripping before you hit the floor with a muted _thud_. The pain doesn’t start until a moment later, a sort of dull ache that your mind interprets as another reason why you might need a hip replacement before you turn fifty. _Not that that’s too far off_ , you bemoan, very happy that your true age is safe from all but management and the hot-headed Okinawan you’re supposed to be eluding. _On that note,_ you think and look up at what had startled you in the first place.

 

Pretty blue eyes look down at you in concern. “Are you all right?” Yagami- _kun_ asks, shifting the coffee cup to her left hand so she can offer you her dominant right one. Even with her messy hair and ( _how many days has she been wearing that?_ ) wrinkled shirt, there is something inherently pretty about her. Maybe this is what Tooyama- _kun_ sees every time she looks at her. _Probably with more hearts in the background_ , you imagine.

 

“I think I get it,” you murmur as you grab the proffered hand and are pulled to your feet.

 

She shoots you a quizzical look. “What do you get?”

 

You give yourself a once-over, then turn to Yagami- _kun_ to do the same. She must be truly dense not to see what her best friend feels towards her. Then again, you’re not surprised; you’ve watched this one-sided love story unfold for the last seven years and come to two possible conclusions: Yagami- _kun_ is either as dumb as they come, or Umiko- _kun_ ’s constant barrage of airsoft pellets has brain-damaged her beyond repair. _At least she can still draw_ , you try to find the good in the situation, ignoring the very obvious third option – that Yagami- _kun_ is repressing her own feelings for whatever reason – because it isn’t something you can see her doing. Yagami- _kun_ is warm and kind, not cruel. Not like this.

 

“Nothing,” you grin despite the dark thought clinging to the back of your mind and brush the question off with a practiced wave of the hand.

 

She raises an eyebrow and makes a sound that lets you know she isn’t convinced, but doesn’t push the issue, preferring to behold you from over the rim of her coffee mug as she takes a sip.

 

“So… what were you staring at, Hazuki- _san_?” She makes to push past you, but you hold her back before she’s able to glance around the corner. “Are they tampering with the thermostat again? I swear –”

 

“The thermostat is in the opposite direction,” you giggle, but relent anyway. Using your most conspiratorial voice, you divulge, “Umiko- _kun_ was smiling.”

 

“Eeeh? _Ahagon_? Are you sure?” You huff at the disbelief in her voice, not dignifying that with a response. Then Yagami- _kun_ ’s expression shifts into one more befitting of a devious criminal mastermind as she pulls her phone from her back pocket, brandishing it the way Shinoda- _kun_ does her swords. “Is she still there? I could use some blackmail material in case she saw… things.”

 

“Things?”

 

She nods emphatically. “Things.”

 

The two of you peek your heads out from behind the relative safety – from other gazes in your case, and airsoft gun ammunition in hers – of the partition just in time to see Umiko- _kun_ ’s glare at the screen of her newly-fixed phone turn into a warm smile. It’s more a mix of suppressed fondness and blatant irritation that manifests as a grimace, though; only slightly less scary than her usual expression. But it’s still a smile. There are crinkles in the corners of her eyes.

 

Yagami- _kun_ fumbles with her own device, struggling to open and aim the camera in time, resulting in mostly blurry shots of Umiko- _kun_ jamming her phone back into her jeans. There isn’t a decent picture in the whole set, but that doesn’t deter you – you know what you saw.

 

Leaning against the wall, you begin wondering what could have possessed the stoic programmer to turn into such a softie. “Why do you think she did that?”

 

“Did what?”

 

You roll your eyes. “Why do you think she was smiling?”

 

“Mm,” Yagami- _kun_ supplies most unhelpfully before something seems to click. “Oh! It might have been Nene!”

 

“Nene?” The name rings a bell, but only very vaguely. Yagami- _kun_ begins pinching her thumb and forefinger together, and you remember. “Suzukaze- _kun_ ’s friend who also looks like she’s supposed to be in middle school?”

 

“That one! She and Ahagon started having… a thing recently.”

 

“Another thing?” Yagami- _kun_ looks away, embarrassed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the previous thing you mentioned, would it?”

 

“Well…” she stalls, “do you need to know that?”

 

“You tell me!”

 

There’s a short pause before she answers, “Not really,” but the blush burning her cheeks pink betrays her.

 

“So Umiko- _kun_ and Sakura- _san_ are together,” you press.

 

“And they’re not the only ones! Aoba and Hifumin…” she trails off as her gaze shifts to something over your shoulder, eyes widening in the process. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?”

 

“Don’t you have work to do?” you counter, irritated at having the conversation finally get to a point where you could have found out about everyone’s secret love life, only to have it die on the spot.

 

“What a coincidence,” you hear Umiko- _kun_ growl behind you. “I’m quite sure that’s something you have to do too, Hazuki- _san_.”

 

_Oh. Whoops._

 

“Hardly an appropriate response given the current situation, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” Umiko- _kun_ turns to face Yagami- _kun_ before addressing her, “I’m afraid Hazuki- _san_ has a previous engagement, so we will be leaving, Kou- _san_.”

 

Yagami- _kun_ shoots you a smile and a quick thumbs-up before shouting, “Bye, Ahagon!”

 

“It’s Umiko!” your captor yells back, fingers running across her belt to grab the airsoft pistol tucked into it, but her target has already darted out of sight. She glares in the direction of the receding footsteps, then turns the gun on you. You steel yourself for the inevitable shot, but Umiko- _kun_ only presses it to your lower back, urging you onwards. “You’re late.”

 

“Yes.” What else can you say?

 

She sighs, “Conference room two,” and leaves for her desk, leaving you to your fate.

 

\---------------

 

You hate meetings.

 

Long-winded talks about doing things that are never going to be done. Alternatively, long-winded talks about things that have already been done and aren’t going to be changed, no matter how much someone objects to it. There’s a reason you didn’t go into politics the way everyone expected you to, but how you ended up in the similar position of controlling people and presenting make-it-or-break-it ideas is still a mystery to you. Although it might have something to do with your abysmal lack of talent in drawing. Or maybe your lack of interest in turning a computer on for anything other than to play one of your yuri visual novels.

 

_Not that it’s been necessary for a while_ , you think, ignoring the chairwoman of the distribution company in favour of some introspection. It’s strange, but you can’t remember the last time you felt the need to play _Sono Hanabira_ or _Okujou no Yurirei-_ san – quite possibly because you have the real-life version play out in front of you every day you come into the office.

 

It’s always been like that: you’re much happier watching other people suffer through love than trying it out for yourself. Apparently, the saying about those who talk about it the most do it the least is true. But that’s what you love. The secret productions that magically find their way into your space and bloom into passionate romances, torrid affairs or agonising stories of heartbreak are the ones you long for. You can’t believe that any personal relationship could ever be anywhere near as satisfying as watching the cast of your yuri pseudo-harem play out their love stories. There have been a few _maybe, maybe not_ situations over the years, but what you have now is quite possibly the best set-up you’ve seen in, well, forever.

 

In Umiko- _kun_ and Sakura- _san_ you have found the lovers torn asunder by their different places in society. A modern tale of Juliet and Juliet, whose time together ran out before they were able to consummate their love (or do anything, really. Although that seems to have gone out the window with Umiko- _kun_ constantly smiling at her phone). And now, with Yagami- _kun_ ’s confirmation, you’re sure that that ship has sailed.

 

Shinoda- _kun_ and Iijima- _kun_ have their very own _will they or won’t they?_ affair going on. The two of them are best friends and worst enemies and very bad at pretending they aren’t falling in love. At least, you’d like to think so, but Shinoda- _kun_ is all but oblivious to Iijima- _kun’_ s misguided attempts at getting her to look her way. It’s all you can do but hope for the best.

 

The newest development, however, is an accidental romance, still unresolved. What you hate the most about it is that it took you a lost cat, two cups of coffee and numerous startling encounters between a certain tiny animator and her twice-shy counterpart to figure out that _they’re avoiding each other_ is the reason for the most awkward atmosphere you’ve experienced in the office since… since… _Ever_ , your mind supplies. Although there was that time when – _no, Shizuku. You promised Yagami-_ kun _that it never happened. You don’t know anything. It never happened._

 

It’s quite a feat when two people go so out of their way to evade the other, only to meet along the way, doing precisely the same thing. You’ve seen the two of them bump into each other, apologise profusely before realising exactly whom they had encountered and run off in opposite directions with matching flushes. Multiple times now. And as entertaining as that had been the last two times (out of three, with the first one being an awkward greeting followed by luminous blushes and uncomfortable shuffling before being broken up by Shinoda- _kun_ , who really just wanted to clock in), you don’t think you can stand another run-in without locking them in a storage cabinet to sort themselves out.

 

Which is something your longest-running production has yet to do. The twelve-volume series of a love story that started with “Oh, hello” and has yet to end with exciting other things (or even just a confession). There’s no end in sight. It’s a terrifying experience, because even if every single day is filled with loaded gazes and caring touches, there is still the possibility of Yagami- _kun_ saying “no”. Seven years of pining gone to waste. It frightens you.

 

You don’t know how she does it. Even with your tendencies to evade work and procrastinate for hours on end, you don’t think you have even a modicum of her patience. Every time you see Tooyama- _kun_ , she’s either diligently at work or diligently taking care of the object of her affections, which is just another type of work. _How does she keep it together? How does she live with the knowledge that any change in the way she treats her best friend may lead to devastating heartbreak?_

_How much does it hurt?_

 

All the while, you’ve been staring in her general direction; she catches you looking and smiles kindly before asking something. It stuns you out of your daze.

 

“I’m sorry, Tooyama- _kun_. Could you repeat that, please?”

 

There are a few isolated snickers around the table, all of which are quickly silenced by a sweeping glare in the right direction.

 

“I asked if there was anything you’d like to add,” she repeats with a little more emphasis, hiding her smile behind her hand. You’re struck by her kindness – you shouldn’t be, considering how long you’ve known her for, but you are – and how cruel Yagami- _kun_ is truly being. Despite everything you try to make yourself believe, Option Number Three is the only plausible reason for the lack of romantic development in their relationship: Yagami- _kun_ is holding Tooyama- _kun_ at arm’s length simply because she doesn’t want to be hurt, not again – and is breaking both of their hearts in the process.

 

_She doesn’t deserve this type of limbo,_ is the reason you give yourself for what you do next. You’re lying to yourself, trying to make yourself feel better because the real reason is selfish beyond belief and you can’t justify your actions with it. Not to her.

 

Good or bad, this chapter in their romance needs to end.

 

“Yes, I do.” The background murmurs are easily ignored, but this isn’t for any one of them to hear. “Give us the room,” you command, dismissing them without a second thought. You lean back in your chair, focusing your gaze solely on Tooyama- _kun_. She closes the door, then turns to look at you expectantly. Your eyes lock.

 

“Were you even listening, Hazuki- _san_?” she probes, folding her arms and looking at you with that look of fond exasperation she usually reserves for Yagami- _kun_.

 

“No.” _Truthful, if nothing else._

 

She huffs and draws herself up, brushing your answer off. She’ll come back to it later. You’re sure of it. “What did you want to tell me?”

 

_I’m so sorry_ , you think. _Forgive me._

 

You put on the most sing-song voice you can muster and ask:

 

“When are you and Yagami- _kun_ going to get together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!   
> Please don't murder me.
> 
> A quick note on the update: the chapter is in progress, but I start my two weeks of exams on Monday and will have to see how those pan out. The new chapter will most likely be late. Not that this has an update schedule or anything. Eh.
> 
> What I forgot in the note at the beginning: thanks so much to everyone who reads and reviews and leaves kudos! Every time I get an email telling me someone likes or has critique for the story, I get pumped! Send more! Until then!


	4. Rin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, more than a year later, another chapter emerges.
> 
> I've been working on this chapter (and other bits of the story) all year, so it hasn't felt like that long to me at all. Add in some dashes of writer's block and much re-watching and re-reading of New Game! and you get... a character study. Kind of. This chapter has two main functions: 1. to drive home the nature of the relationship between Rin and Kou; and 2. to set the foundations to continue the story which I couldn't do in the previous chapter. Basically: it's there to steer the plot in the right direction, not be a plot-driven chapter. Instead, it relies heavily on character interpretation, something which I think I got right this time 'round.
> 
> In light of all of that - or despite all of it - please enjoy!

 

(KOU)

 

“Kou- _chan_ ,” Rin murmurs, and your heart restarts.

 

Even in the world’s ugliest hospital gown, voice and eyelids heavy with medication, she manages to cut an attractive figure. _Unfair_ , you’d think if it weren’t for the last four hours – five, if you include the time it took for the doctors to let you see her – in which the only thought running through your mind had been _Rin_.

 

Which isn’t anything new. She’s usually on some part of your mind, but this had been on a different scale altogether. _Rin_ , your heart thuds, reminding you to think of why you’re hunched over a hospital bed at 1:53 in the morning, praying to whatever’s been listening to your internal monologues these past couple of years. Making promises you won’t keep.

 

_Rin._

 

_Rin Rin Rin Rin Rin._

 

“Kou- _chan_!”

 

“Mm?”

 

An exasperated huff set off by fond eyes.

 

“I’ve been calling you.”

 

You’re not sure what to make of that. A joke? Did she mean right now? Or the last couple of hours? When you’d finally bothered to look at your phone, there had been more messages and missed calls than people in this backwater village your parents like to call home. Most of them from her alone. Only one from your mother, as short as it is accusatory: _Hospital room 58_.

 

Your mother’s eyes had read _blame_. When you look into Rin’s, all you see is relief.

 

The silence is taken into stride. “Well,” she smiles, “at least you’re all right.”

 

If you say anything now, you’ll explode. Everything you’ve been holding back will come flooding out. Just like it did five years ago. Just like it did five hours ago.

 

“I was hoping you would be,” Rin presses on, asking for your presence, your attention, your interest. Anything you have to give. “Your mom told me not to worry, but you know how I am.” Self-deprecating smile. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

 

_Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything…_

 

“Kou- _chan_ –”

 

You break.

 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

 

It’s quiet for a while. Unspoken words are nothing new – this, however. This is.

 

“For…” she ventures tentatively, and suddenly, you _know_. Rin’s never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself, despite her copious denials, self or otherwise. “What for, Kou- _chan_?”

 

Her eyes are so, so guarded, expecting a lie, a turnabout comment, anticipating it. You know she knows. You can’t. Not anymore.

 

“You heard.”

 

Rin looks like she’s been struck by lightning: pupils blown, mouth open, chest heaving. You can’t help but think it only adds to the appeal. “I… y-yes,” she finally stammers out, half a minute too late.

 

“And?” The word comes out too quickly, too nonchalant and you think you’ve blown it. You fist your fingers in the sheets in frustration, eyes tracing the lack of pattern between your grabbing hands. Until there’s another feeling, so soft it’s only outdone by the look in Rin’s eyes.

 

She pulls your hand onto her leg, and leaves it there, watching. Waiting.

 

You don’t look away.

 

Not even when your fingers tremble on her thigh as she tugs on your wrist, willing your hand higher. _Closer_ , they tell you, the feeling intensifying. Your digits twitch. _Closer still_.

 

Halfway off your chair and one knee on the bed, you stop. Any closer and –

 

“Touch me, Kou- _chan_.”

 

Three words whispered into the air between you; suspended by the near-palpable tension.

 

You wish this were the first time.

 

But history has a way of repeating itself.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

(RIN)

 

_(a few days previously)_

 

Ever since you can remember, you’ve wanted your life to follow the plotline of a romance novel.

 

There’s the vague notion that you wanted to be a princess before that, but you had had neither the long hair that would flutter in the wind nor the patience to gaze forlornly out of the window of the castle’s highest tower while your prince was off being lost in some forest not finding you, so the thought had been quickly put aside in favour of another. Princes come in hundreds of different forms, after all. At least, that’s if the tall shelves of the romance section of your local library – filled to the point where it’s practically impossible to get a book out from between the others – have anything to say about it. Why shouldn’t you find the one that suits your idea of true love best?

 

And yet, almost two decades later, at the ripe old age of twenty-six, you’ve come to realise that your life seems to have skipped the romance novel turnoff completely and gone down the _shoujo_ manga route instead. It makes sense, in context: the main action comes from the secondary, overly-shy characters whom everyone roots for, Hazuki- _san_ is the omniscient observer who doles out useless and embarrassing information at the worst possible times, Kou- _chan_ is the oblivious love interest with the world’s biggest chip on her shoulder and you’re the girl with the massive crush on her best friend. All it still needs for true B-rated romance is a bland high school setting and a rival for Kou- _chan_ ’s affection to distract her from your true feelings.

 

_Although Kou-_ chan _seems to be quite adept at doing that all by herself_ , you remind yourself as you think of the past seven years she’s been actively ignoring your distinct lack of advances towards her. Even now, with the watch on your wrist reading a time well past midnight, Kou- _chan_ is hunched over her desk, scratching out new character designs that aren’t due until next week.

 

“Kou- _chan_ ,” you try to intervene, knowing full well that you’ll be ignored.

 

Silence. The sound of drawing doesn’t even pause for a moment.

 

“Kou- _chan_ ,” you probe again, this time reaching for the hem of jeans, tugging weakly.

 

“Hm?” Her body turns vaguely towards you, but her eyes never leave the page in front of her. You decide to keep quiet – speaking is an effort at this point in time. You’re rewarded not a minute later with concerned blue eyes peeking over her shoulder and a tentative “Rin?”

 

_She looks! She speaks! Tooyama Rin scores! And the crowd goes wild! How on_ Earth _did she get –_

“Shut up.”

 

Kou- _chan_ ’s eyes widen, then narrow, then give you a confused look. “I didn’t say anything?”

 

“Ah!” The red shoots into your cheeks; you feel terribly embarrassed at having been caught out. “I – sorry. I was speaking to myself.”

 

She gives you an once-over and a concerned glance before going back to ignoring you. Or “creating”, as she likes to call it when no-one else is around to hear her. Propping yourself up on one arm, you simultaneously wait for Kou- _chan_ to finish and the red to disappear from your face. Neither one of which is going as quickly as you hoped – the way things are going, your blush might be long gone before Kou- _chan_ even considers calling it a night.

 

_Workaholic_ , you think fondly before remembering, _look who’s talking_. You may be three-quarter way to being asleep, but you’re also spending yet another night at work, so, there. Sometimes, you wish that the exorbitant amount of time you spend here is because of the hours you waste away ogling Kou- _chan_ , but the truth is far from it: you’re actually quite good at your job. And probably about as in love with it as you are with your best friend.

 

Which might have something to do with the workplace, though.

 

In the eight years you’ve been there, the Eagle Jump office has been many things to you. It’s where – despite your mess of a first interview – you landed your first job. It’s where the genuine interest and continued effort of a small group of inexperienced half-adults like yourself sparked a global success, skyrocketing a tiny company to the top of the rankings board to compete with internationally-recognised brands. It’s where you find the people you think are truly worth caring for: peers like Umiko- _san_ and Hazuki- _san_ , who, despite their glaring flaws, have their hearts in the right place; subordinates such as Aoba- _chan_ and Hifumi- _chan_ and the “we’re-not-best-friends” duo that argues like a married couple but spends most of the day hoping the other one doesn’t notice the glances they shoot their way, all of whom give a hundred and ten percent all the time; and, of course, the girl you’ve been in love with since you were eighteen. You may not live there the way Kou- _chan_ does, but the Eagle Jump head office is still more _home_ than your apartment – or your parents’ house, for that matter – will ever be.

 

And so, much like home, it’s also the place where everyone knows everything you’re thinking before you do. Like now.

 

“I’ll be done soon, Rin,” Kou- _chan_ murmurs from her perch a metre away. “Just a few more lines…”

 

You’ve heard that one before. “ _One_ more line,” you admonish, not sounding very stern with your falling-asleep voice and a big yawn afterwards. She seems to think so too, going by the lack of break in sketching noises.

 

“Kou- _chan_.”

 

“Mm.” _Scritch scritch._

 

“ _Kou_ -chan.”

 

The sound falters for a moment before starting back up again. “This is important.”

 

“ _Sleep_ is important.”

 

Silence. Then: “I forgot my sleeping bag.”

 

“What.”

 

“… I forgot my sleeping bag,” she repeats, mumbling.

 

“Your sleeping bag lives here, Kou- _chan_.” _Much the same way you do, actually,_ you want to tack onto the end, but restrain yourself. Pushing her buttons right now wouldn’t be conducive to _getting her to sleep because it’s already past one in the morning and she’s been awake for a good two days and –_

_Breathe,_ _Rin_. “How could you forget it when it’s always here?”

 

She swivels around to face you, ears and cheeks burning scarlet, “It’s being washed, okay! I haven’t had it cleaned since I got it, and, well, there was this funny stain on the hood but when I tried to find the right setting on the washing machine, _that_ decided to malfunction so – ”

 

You let out a snort. “Don’t laugh!” she cries, which, of course, sets you off even further. “It’s not funny!”

 

You can’t help but giggle into your pillow. The whole story is so very _her_ – so bad at life it’s a wonder she’s still alive today. She turns away again, embarrassed, head ducked amongst half-empty cans of Red Gull and mugs with long-cold coffee which are strewn across the desk haphazardly. It’s almost impossible to make out any desk surface from between them. You make a mental note to clean once you wake up, provided Kou- _chan_ isn’t up bright and early because she’s feeling _inspired_.

 

Not that that’s going to happen if you can’t get her to actually fall asleep in the first place.

 

_Last try_ , you lie, knowing full well that there will never be a “last” for you when it comes to Kou- _chan_. Well, except maybe an “at last”, but that’s your Cloud Nine, your pipe dream, your Never Ever After. There’s no way she’d ever want you the way you want her. Hope may spring eternal, but reality has a way of intruding in the worst possible way, making sure everything else is beaten, battered, broken, lost. You don’t dare expose yourself to it, making sure to lock hope away in the deepest part of your heart to the point where even you question its existence.

 

Until someone decided to crash through all of your carefully constructed walls and uncover it with soft words and brutal intent.

 

_When are you and Yagami-_ kun _going to get together?_

 

_Stop. Don’t think about it._

There’s the faint scent of Hazuki- _san_ ’s perfume. Tiny strands of cat hair on her wrap catch the light. Her expression is unreadable behind her glasses.

 

_When are you and Yagami-_ kun _going to get together?_

 

_Stop._

 

Your body stops responding. There’s no input. Are the papers in your hands still there? Are _you_ still there?

 

_When are you and Yagami-_ kun _–_

Stop. _Not another word._

_When are you –_

_STOP._

 

_When –_

 

**STOP!!!**

 

It does. You’re back in your cubicle, half-hidden under your desk, chest heaving, eyes streaming.

 

Kou- _chan_ hasn’t noticed a thing.

 

_Of course,_ you think to yourself, ignoring the prickle of more tears about to fall. _Another kind of nightmare._   _Just the type that’s real._

 

You throw an arm across your eyes to make sure she doesn’t see. There’s a part of you – a selfish, wantsome part that terrifies you – that tells you not to, that needs Kou- _chan_ to realise what agonising circle of hell you’ve lived in for years just to keep her in the dark. It urges you to make her see the tracks of your tears, just a few of the thousands you’ve shed in her name. You want to listen to it.

 

But you’re Tooyama Rin. Patron saint of self-sacrifice, martyr supreme. The ultimate pin-up girl for unrequited feelings. All in the name of love. Which is why you wait for the tears to dry before wiping all traces of them away instead of ripping Kou- _chan_ out of this delusion of hers where she still thinks you’re not in love with her. You’re a clean slate. It’s like nothing’s happened in the last two minutes and eighteen seconds.

 

_Breathe in._

 

“Just come and sleep, Kou- _chan_ ,” you murmur, already zipping open your sleeping bag to make room for two. There isn’t a waver in your voice. Practice makes perfect, after all.

 

Leaning forward, hands on her knees; her eyes flicker between the sleeping bag and the unfinished drawings still on her desk – both so inviting for different reasons – but she must see something in your glare because she drops from the chair and crawls over to where you are.

 

“We’ll just use it like a blanket,” you say, knowing full-well that winter is coming, that it has been for some time now, and that you’re probably going to freeze the rest of the night – early morning? – through. It doesn’t matter. Not the hard floor, not the mild case of hypothermia you’ll end up with, not the fact that you won’t get any sleep tonight because Kou- _chan_ is so, so close already and that that distance won’t increase anytime soon.

 

The two of you wrestle for the space beneath it, Kou- _chan_ only giving in when you jab your elbow into her side and use her agony as a distraction so you can snatch the sleeping bag from her grasp. You only realise that you put much too much force behind the pull when you topple over, ending up much closer to Kou- _chan_ than you expected.

 

If the lights were on right now, you think you’d be blinded by bright blue eyes staring into your own. She smells like Red Gull and pencil graphite and the softener you use on her endless collection of turtlenecks. There’s a faint hint of sweat. You wonder how far you’d have to lean in for your lips to touch hers – you can feel her exhales on your cheek – would a few inches do it?

 

You’re holding yourself back from moving in just that little bit closer when you feel the body next to you shift – _ah, Kou_ -chan _’s just getting comforta– wait… is she… coming clos–_

 

 “Good night, Rin.” Warm breath hits your ear, but before the words register, there’s a head on your shoulder and blonde hair splayed everywhere. And Kou- _chan_ , half against you and half on top of you, already asleep.

 

_Oh,_ your brain supplies helpfully; much too little, much too late.  “Good… night,” you murmur to nothing in particular, trying and failing to avoid getting long blonde tendrils in your mouth. They stick to your lips even as you wipe them away, so you stop bothering trying to remove them. Just like you stop bothering trying to fall asleep.

 

Everything about Kou- _chan_ – the memory of her smile and her hair and she herself, hand fisted lightly in your shirt – clings to you like spiderwebs.

 

Impossible to brush away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for waiting. I think I promised an update sometime in June, which then never came to fruition. My sincerest apologies for that. I can't promise the appearance of another update soon - but I am interested in finishing this story off, and doing right by it in the process. I have a Christmas oneshot planned for Christmas - but that's a different fandom.
> 
> For those of you inclined, I'm thinking of setting up shop in tumblr as well so you can have a direct line for complaints and such. Better let me know when the chapter update is taking too long again! Until next time!


	5. Rin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuku meddles, Christina wants to murder Kou, Rin has an existential crisis, Yun's in love, and Hajime sets part of the office on fire. You know, normal things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how glad I am to see that people are still reading this. If it were me, I'd have given up on this by now. I'm most impressed by the patience you all seem to possess.
> 
> In that vein, this chapter is almost twice as long as the previous one to make up for all the waiting. Also because I don't think I could stand writing another Rin chapter. Keeping her in character without devolving into a soap opera-like "oh woe me" persona is harder than I thought it would be. Hence, Kou will be up next! ... in four months or so. Maybe.
> 
> With that said: have at it!

 

“We have a problem.”

 

You find yourself hard-pressed to believe this, but Christina- _san_ is giving you _a look_ , so you sit up just a little straighter in your chair and do your best to look serious and awake despite a distinct lack of coffee. Kou- _chan_ doesn’t bother. She slouches further into her chair and yawns. It’s so wide that if you hadn’t known about her tonsillectomy, you would have figured it out now.

 

You want to nudge her to keep her awake, but the only part of her close enough is her foot, and Hazuki- _san_ is making that hopeful face she always does when she’s about to misinterpret something any one of her employees does. And really, the last thing you need now is yet another complaint to human resources saying how you were playing footsie in a meeting discussing your lack of romantic boundaries at work, so you restrain yourself.

 

“It seems there has been some trouble, uh, with…” Christina- _san_ continues, much too stuttery for your liking. The notes she’s reading from look handwritten and much more haphazard than you’ve come to expect from her. “With your –” she squints at a word, “conduct.”

 

Yeah, you’re not buying it. Mostly because “we have a problem” speeches do not involve Hazuki- _san_ trying (and failing) to suppress a grin much like the one she uses whenever she gets Umiko- _san_ to add some ridiculous spec to your newest game. Which, so far, have included panty shots, a very revealing Santa costume for the Christmas event, and that whole extra town that consisted of only yuri couples who all looked suspiciously like Eagle Jump employees. Now you think about it, you’re pretty sure that there was a side quest in which you needed to convince a tiny purple-haired girl to confess her feelings to –

 

“As I’m sure HR has told you,” Christina continues, oblivious to your internal revelations, “the, ahem, _position_ in which the two of you were found on the morning of this last Tuesday, the second of –”

 

This isn’t really something you want to think about. Especially not when Kou- _chan_ , amongst others, is in the room with you. Your fantasising about the events of a few days ago, preferably without the interruption that followed in the form of Aoba- _chan_ finding the two of you wrapped up in a single sleeping bag, shirts ridden up and in each other’s arms, is something that should probably be kept to the confines of your bedroom sheets, never to be spoken of. Except that now Christina- _san_ has mentioned it, it’s all you can think about.

 

This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened, and you’re more than sure that it won’t be the last time either. Being so close to Kou- _chan_ , you mean.

 

There have been hundreds of instances in which the two of you have been pressed up against each other – Kou- _chan_ can hold her liquor about as well as you (so not at all) – and you’ve lost count of the number of times when there had been arms slung possessively around your neck, your waist. Hazy memories of her face tucked into the crook of your neck after a night out, a hand toying with the hem of your blouse without slipping underneath it, all while barely catching the last train home.

 

Some part of your brain reminds you that those times had all taken place outside of work hours – or at least _outside_ – and have precious little to do with your current predicament other than that your self-control regarding your emotions is slipping. Old age is making you senile.

 

Although, to be fair, it isn’t your fault that Kou- _chan_ is so irresistible.

 

Creative, beautiful-if-she-tries-and-pretty-even-if-she-doesn’t, works in the gaming industry: basically every otaku’s wet dream. You’re fairly certain that the only reason Kou- _chan_ hasn’t got hitched already has to do with her being married to the job and never leaving the office. And even when she does, it’s always half-asleep on the late train with the drunks and perverts and you right next to her, which probably says more about you than –

 

“- _san_ , are you listening to me?”

 

“What? Yes! Of course!” you exclaim by way of being shocked out of your rêverie. What are the last few words you remember? Something like _indiscretion_ and _company’s reputation_ , maybe?

 

“Huh?” Kou- _chan_ mumbles, blearily opening one eye.

 

Christina- _san_ just sighs. “I was asking Yagami- _san_.” You flush, embarrassed. “Let me get straight to the point: Eagle Jump policy dictates that all romantic relationships between co-workers must be reported to human resources. Failure to do so may result in–”

 

“Wait, what –?” “We aren’t –”

 

“Let me finish,” Christina- _san_ interjects, looking more and more harassed by the second.

 

Somehow, you suspect this all has something to do with Hazuki- _san_ ’s ever-growing grin – and you’re right. Not that you ever get the whole story, but Yun- _chan_ accidentally let slip that Hazuki- _san_ had not-so-subtly cornered Aoba- _chan_ and forced her to spill the beans on The Incident. All within earshot of Christina- _san_ , who had wanted to ignore it, but happened to be in discussion with another team leader who was friends with someone whose boss knew Hazuki- _san_ who had persuaded them to report it to management. You lose the grapevine two people in, but all in all, it brings you here. To a disciplinary meeting. With your boss, her boss and your not-girlfriend. About how your lack of romantic relationship is interfering with “work boundaries”. While Hazuki- _san_ is doodling banners adorned with “Rin + Kou” around little hearts, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

 

_Great._

 

“While the two of you have made it clear that you are not… _involved_ , you have failed to exhibit the standard of professionalism expected from the relationships you cultivate at work.” You’re pretty sure you’ve missed at least half of Christina- _san_ ’s speech by either staring at Kou- _chan_ or glaring at Hazuki- _san_ , neither one of which has been to any avail. “Usually, infractions of this nature are met with a combination of a final warning and a suspension, or, in severe cases, termination of employment. Your case, however, is –”

 

“Did you say _termination of employment_?!”

 

“Yagami- _san_ , if you would actually let me finish –”

 

“You can’t fire Rin! If you do, I’ll… I’ll…”

 

“Kou- _chan_ –”

 

“I’ll quit!”

 

Dead silence.

 

Except for the muffled panic of “Did Yagami- _san_ just say she’d _quit_?” from the other side of the conference room door. Which just proves your theory that no place is soundproof as long as Hajime- _chan_ has some collector’s edition toy from a Friday night spy anime and a six-pack of AAA batteries.

 

There’s some hasty _shushing_ and shuffling – the eavesdroppers getting back into position? – while Hazuki- _san_ inches her chair further and further away from Christina- _san_. The remains of a snapped pencil lie in front of the latter at a sorry sort of angle.

 

If it were just you up in front of your two bosses right now, you’d run interference. You probably also wouldn’t _be_ in this position, but that’s a problem for “If Kou- _chan_ Didn’t Exist”, your on-going epic saga of how you might have been married to Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome, or some other guy your parents picked out for you back when you were seventeen, if eighteen year-old Rin hadn’t decided to go lusting after Miss Tall, Pale and Consistently Avoiding a Hairbrush.

 

The thing is, she _is_ here, and you know her well enough that you’re sure she’s two uncomfortable seconds away from –

 

“Wan–”

 

– making the situation worse.

 

“Want me to get rid of them?” Kou- _chan_ ekes out from next to you, jerking her thumb in the vague direction of the door. Her voice cracks halfway through the question. It’d be funny if it weren’t so incredibly awkward.

 

You shake your head “no”. Partially because, let’s face it, they’re going to hear it all from Hazuki- _san_ within the next day or so anyway. Partially because you don’t need to watch Yun- _chan_ and Hajime- _chan_ falling into the room, getting more action in the process than you have had in six years. Mostly because what you really want right now is a long, hot bath. And bottle of _sake_ all to yourself. Kou- _chan’s_ tongue down your throat. A whole day off to wallow in self-pity and vent in your journal. To not have to watch Hazuki- _san_ draw caricatures of you and Kou- _chan_ holding hands. Really, any of those.

 

You expect the quiet to set back in until Christina- _san_ cuts it off. “Before… before we continue with the _actual_ reason the two of you have been asked here today,” she grinds out, her voice measured and dangerously low, “might I remind you that Eagle Jump has produced a number of popular games _other_ than the ones you two are affiliated with – and will continue to do so even after you are gone. While losing you and your visions will be… _distressing_ , it cannot, and will not, be the end of the world, or the end of Eagle Jump. Please do keep that in mind before you put your job on the line in unnecessary ultimatums.”

 

Hazuki- _san_ lets out a low whistle, simultaneously distressed and impressed. Christina- _san_ glares at her. Kou- _chan_ deflates. You wonder if all disciplinary hearings last – you look at your watch – _thirty-six minutes_?! You have _work_ to do! And so does Kou- _chan_! And the others listening in behind the door need to finish off their character designs before the next batch comes in! And Umiko- _san_ wanted to see Hazuki- _san_ for –

 

_Stop_. You don’t have time for this. To that effect, you prompt, much calmer than you feel, “Shall we move on?”

 

Christina- _san_ clears her throat; still rattled despite her unshakeable image, she nods and reorganises her papers as the rest of the room quietens down. “Let’s. I’ll make this quick: I’ve been made aware of the fact that neither one of you has taken more than three paid vacation days outside of sick leave over the last two years. Taking both that and the various other factors at play here into consideration, management has proposed that the two of you should make use of at least half of your accumulated vacation days to release the, _ahem_ , built-up tension.”

 

You imagine everyone can hear the unsaid “between you” tacked onto the end of that sentence.

 

“Huh?” Kou- _chan_ replies eloquently.

 

… maybe not _everyone_ , then. The table is beginning to look very appealing for a head-to-desk scenario right about now.

 

Hazuki- _san_ saves you the pain. “We need you to go on holiday for at least two weeks so we don’t have a situation like the one from three days ago again, what with you not-copulating and all,” she simplifies and winks.

 

You’re going to murder her.

 

“Oh,” is all Kou- _chan_ says. Until: “Wait, _what_?!”

 

\---------------

 

That Saturday, you don your nicest dress, grab your finest ingredients and set off to convince Kou- _chan_ of the two things she hates most: visiting her parents, and getting out of bed. Not necessarily in that order.

 

It starts off well enough, what with the maid café-quality rice omelette you turn out that has “Kou- _chan_ ♥” drawn painstakingly (and maybe a little lopsidedly) on it. Even the noises from her bedroom sound more like “leave me alone” than the usual gruesome groans of death being microwaved. And that’s where it all goes wrong.

 

To be fair, maybe you should have broached the subject _after_ she’d got rid of all the blankets hanging off of her.

 

Which brings you here, four hours and a very sorry-looking omelette later, having the thirty-seventh utterance of the same conversation.

 

“Kou- _chan_ ,” you probe, hoping this time it won’t devolve into yet another screaming match.

 

“No!” the heaving blanket fort shouts, curling in on itself even further.

 

A cushion collapses on the couch. You can’t bring yourself to bother thinking about straightening it out again. “You promised.”

 

“I’m not going!”

 

_And here we go._

 

“ _Why_ not? Kou- _chan_ , they’re your _parents_!”

 

“I saw them two years ago!”

 

“So did I!”

 

“You didn’t have to come with!”

 

“Well, maybe I won’t this time then!” you yell at her, pissed beyond belief. You can’t decide if you’re angry at her, or angry at yourself, or angry at Hazuki- _san_ for getting you into this situation in the first place, so you do what any irrational person would do: stand up, leave, and slam the door in your wake, leaving it rattling on its hinges.

 

\---------------

 

Within half an hour, you’re back with canned coffee for yourself and a Red Gull for Kou- _chan_.

 

“I’m sorry,” the blanket fort at your feet whispers, a disembodied hand and arm coming from underneath it to accept the drink from you, “and thank you.”

 

It’s quiet for a while as you brood and Kou- _chan_ does… whatever it is she’s doing underneath there. Neither one of you is in the mood to start anything – really, what’s new? – so you finish the coffee that’s doing nothing to keep you awake, and fall into a troubled sleep.

 

\---------------

 

When you wake up, you feel a bit better. You think Kou- _chan_ does too, based on the way her head is peeking out from beneath an ugly yellow blanket, more bare than thread.

 

“Hey,” she pokes your foot to catch your attention. “Do we have to go?”

 

“We?”

 

She looks indignant, and maybe a little ashamed. “I’m not going without you.” You wait for an elaboration, but none is forthcoming. “Rin?”

 

You want to let her sweat, make her work for your answer, but you’re nowhere near as cruel as you’d like to be. Your “no” only works in certain situations, and this one – clear blue puppy-dog eyes and a shaking voice from the girl you love – is not one of them. “Yes,” you breathe. “ _We_ do.”

 

\---------------

 

Kou- _chan_ ’s just let you out when you hear her tell you, “I don’t want to go.”

 

“I know,” you reply, trying to be empathetic but not understanding.

 

You leave it at that. The door falls closed behind you.

 

\---------------

 

_(a few days later)_

 

“Why not your home, Tooyama- _san_?” is what just about everybody asks you when you and Kou- _chan_ announce your plans to spend the next two weeks over at her childhood home out in the country. You wonder what you should say. A hundred normal reasons spring to mind, only one of them the truth. So, naturally, everyone gets a different answer:

 

“I saw them recently,” is what you tell Christina- _san_ and Hazuki- _san_ when they ask as you hand in your holiday request form. _Lie_. You haven’t been home in six years.

 

Hajime- _chan_ gets, “They’re both very busy with work.” _Half-truth_. They’re busy, but certainly not with anything job-related. Most of the time, they vacillate between erasing your existence from the town you were born in and making sure everyone _outside_ of the prefecture who is a name in anything knows that you’re both unattached and available.

 

“Their house is undergoing renovations – it’d be unkind to force even more on them,” you explain to Aoba- _chan_ as Hifumi- _chan_ tries to blend (quite unsuccessfully) into the background. _Lie_. You grew up in a huge traditional house that’s probably been standing for longer than either one of your parents – or even your grandparents, for that matter – has been alive. Despite the terrifying rattling noises it makes when the wind blows through it during typhoon season, your parents’ house hasn’t ever had any work done on it.

 

Yun- _chan_ doesn’t ask. Well. Not immediately, at least.

 

The Friday before you’re supposed to leave, you decide to take a well-deserved coffee break and are surprised to find her in the cafeteria, deep in conversation on her phone, stage-whispering something about how she can _not_ bring her again and how it was really embarrassing the last time and that everyone thought they were her children and –

 

_Time for coffee_ , you decide, giving her a quick “I’ll be right back” wave before turning to the barista at the counter. “One cappuccino, please. With an extra shot of espresso, if you can.”

 

The young man behind the counter grins and gets going right away. “Three-shot cappuccino, coming right up!”

 

You smile, then look back over your shoulder at Yun- _chan_ , fully expecting the waving arms and red face and exasperated expression. But all of that is negated by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on her, all teeth and lip biting and no reservations, and suddenly, you know who “she” from the phone conversation is. _Hajime-_ chan.

 

For just a moment, it forces a little feeling in your heart to bloom back to life.

 

It makes you believe in love again.

 

You wonder when you’d forgotten to keep doing that.

 

“And one mocha, lots of sugar!” you tack onto your order without really thinking about it – maybe you just need to feel close to a love story that seems much more likely to come true than yours ever will. You know how she takes her caffeine, mostly because Yun- _chan_ likes everything dark and sweet: her coffee, that chocolate cake she tells herself she can’t have because she’s on a diet, the girl she’s in love with.

 

“You got it!” the barista responds energetically, flashing you a thumbs-up from his place at the fantastically complicated-looking machine. He turns back to it just as you feel Yun- _chan_ come to stand beside you. Her phone glides easily back into her pocket, the heated discussion over, but the effects thereof nowhere near gone.

 

“Tooyama- _san_.”

 

“Yun- _chan_ , good work today,” comes your mechanical reply, perfected over years of repetition to both _senpais_ and _kouhais_ alike.

 

“Hardly,” she huffs, obviously irritated and quietly pleased at the same time. “I don’t think I’ve finished a lick of work today, and it’s already twelve!”

 

You raise an eyebrow at that. She gets the message.

 

“… I was planning on staying later anyway.”

 

_Oh good, an opening_ : “Just like Hajime- _chan_ , then.”

 

Yun- _chan_ ’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink at that.

 

“Order up!” the young man behind the counter calls, louder than necessary. “One three-shot cappuccino, and one mocha, extra sugar!”

 

“It’s yours,” you tell the girl beside you when she shoots you a puzzled look. Yun- _chan_ starts to perform the obligatory “searching-in-my-purse-for-the-change-oh-where-did-I-leave-it-maybe-in-here-somewhere?” dance before you wave her off with a, “My treat” and an airy-fairy hand gesture , all while handing the barista a thousand yen note and a kind smile of gratitude.

 

“Thank you,” she pipes up when the two of you have taken your seats across a table from each other. “It wasn’t necessary.”

 

You don’t dignify that with a response, and let the silence talk for you instead. Until it gets just a little _too_ good at that, because now Yun- _chan_ has clammed up entirely, and is instead awkwardly fixated on the cardboard collar around her cup.

 

“So?” you prompt, hoping to continue the conversation from before.

 

“’So’ what?”

 

“Why haven’t you been able to concentrate on work?” Yun- _chan_ startles at that, unsure of where this exchange is going. You laugh. “I’m not here to chastise you – you already said you’d make up the hours. I’d just like to know if there’s a problem I can help with.” Not quite the whole truth, but she doesn’t need to know that. You take a professional-looking sip and reiterate your question.

 

“I – well. It’s my parents. Or, actually, my family. In total. Maybe just Ren and Miu? Um, I –”

 

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

 

So she does. It starts with Hajime- _chan_ , is interspaced with Hajime- _chan_ , and ends with Hajime- _chan_ over for dinner at the Iijima’s for the second time that week. “They can’t seem to get through a conversation without mentioning her!” Yun- _chan_ laments none-too-sadly. “First Ren and Miu, and now my parents too!” Her tone of voice shifts: “‘When are we going to see Hajime-o _nee-chan_ again? Can she come with us to the next _Insect Five_ show?’ and ‘You should invite Hajime- _chan_ over again – isn’t she lonely, living by herself in such a big city?’, despite having seen her the _day_ before!”

 

Yun- _chan_ catches her breath, then continues, “It’s almost… well, as if – with the way they want Hajime there all the time, you’d think that they’re in love with her.”

 

At that, you snort into your cappuccino in the most unladylike-manner before trying to stifle your giggles behind the rim of your coffee cup. “Mm-hm,” you let slip from pinched lips, downing what’s left of your drink to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. _Honestly!_ “Must run in the family,” you murmur, eyes glittering with humour.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Oh, well.” You didn’t expect to be caught, but you think you might as well see this through. Who knows when next you’ll get the chance to get a rise out of someone? “They must take after their sister – or daughter – then.”

 

Yun- _chan_ ’s expression changes from questioning to puzzled to the beet red of realisation in record-setting two-point-seven seconds flat. “W-w-w-w-w-wha! What! D-d – you – I! Ah, uh…” she reels, then stops. Takes a deep breath.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she eventually metes out, turns to look at the ceiling and takes a long pull from her overly-sweet drink. It’s about as convincing as Aoba- _chan_ ’s continuous efforts to persuade you that her suit is not her school uniform. So not at all. You can’t stop laughing, especially not after that comparison.

 

You’re so relaxed that the next thing out of her mouth – her counter-strike, “What about you, Tooyama- _san_?” – catches you completely off-guard. _What?_ Something must show in your expression, because she elaborates, “Going to Yagami- _san_ ’s parents’ place for a two week holiday?”

 

_Freeze._

 

Brown eyes contemplate you from over the plastic dome on top of the paper coffee cup. “Hardly subtle, is it?”

 

“I –”

 

“Order up! One hot chocolate, half white, half brown!” the barista chimes in, and her concentration is broken.

 

“Saved by the bell,” Yun- _chan_ mutters, and stands up to throw away her cup, plucking your empty one from numb fingers. “Thanks again for the coffee, Tooyama- _san_.” Then she’s gone.

 

It takes you a minute or so to compose yourself after that… that… _ambush_. Completely out of left field, much more raw than anything Hazuki- _san_ has ever dared expose you to. You’re still rattled by the time you make your way over to the lifts, where you find Yun- _chan_ worrying her cuticles.

 

“Tooyama- _san_!” she exclaims when she sees you, pinprick tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry. Really. That… wasn’t appropriate. I’m so, _so_ sorry! Please forgive me!”

 

You raise your hands in placation before trying to explain, “Ah, no – don’t. It’s –” The lift bell dings, and its door opens; the two of you pause, consider each other, then step inside wordlessly. Yun- _chan_ dabs at her eyes and presses the button for the fourth floor. You wait. It’s uncomfortable at best and painfully awkward at its worst – how do you tell her that you didn’t mind the interrogation, that you wish someone else would have done so beforehand, that –

 

_Stop. Take the leap._

 

The lift door closes, and you open up, “My parents… don’t like Kou- _chan_ very much.” _Truth._ Although, _correction_ : your parents probably _would_ like Kou- _chan_ if, a. she didn’t dress like she only has two pairs of pants, and, b. you weren’t madly in love with her. Oh, and, c. if she had a Y-chromosome.

 

An expression you can’t quite decipher flits across Yun- _chan_ ’s face, gone so quickly you wonder if you imagined it. “Oh,” is all you get in response. It’s a bit anticlimactic, but you feel better for it anyway. The lift shudders to a halt just before the door pulls back to reveal… _chaos._

 

At the centre of it all stands a distraught-looking Hajime- _chan_ holding the fire-extinguisher, yelling something along the lines of, “It wasn’t even a proper cigarette! The toy company specifically stated that all of its _Dandy Max_ merchandise was safe for use even without parental supervis – Yun?” Her eyes skip over to you and widen in terror. She drops the fire extinguisher. “And. Tooyama. _San_.”

 

“Indeed.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, exasperated already. “Would anyone care to explain what _exactly_ is going on here?”

 

As it turns out, everyone does.

 

“You see, it started when –”

 

“So then Hifumi- _senpai_  mentioned –”

 

“– it all has to do with the new release of the _Dandy Max_ –”

 

“Don’t we need to evacuate?”

 

“– and that’s when the partition caught fire, so we – Yun?” Hajime- _chan_ stops the – admittedly still nonsensical – retelling of events in favour of looking over her best friend. “Are you all right? You kind of have…” she motions to the dark lines the mascara has drawn across Yun- _chan_ ’s cheeks, “… well, it looks like you’ve been crying.” Pause. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m… fine, actually.” She sniffs and offers a watery smile that just grows brighter as Hajime- _chan_ doesn’t look away. “Much better now,” she whispers.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Yun- _chan_ nods, “Absolutely.”

 

The whole exchange is cut short by Christina- _san_ glaring at all of you, mentioning in no uncertain terms that anyone not evacuating the building within the next two minutes will be fired – literally _and_ figuratively, assuming Hajime- _chan_ really did set a partition on fire. Yet somehow, even in the face of danger, Hajime- _chan_ finds the time to beam at Yun- _chan_ , her whole body leaning into her presence, and with that, the little feeling in your chest returns full force.

 

It doesn’t get any better when Kou- _chan_ , somehow appearing from nowhere with her impish grin, wild hair and bright blue eyes, grabs your hand and pulls you down the stairs, shouting “FIRE!!!!” at the top of her lungs. Despite the absurdity of the situation – or maybe because of it? – you fall just a little bit more in love.

 

So somehow, you know it can’t be gone yet.

 

_Hope_.

  

\---------------

 

You never do figure out what the whole fuss earlier today was about, what with the building in lockdown and Hazuki- _san_ shooing you and Kou- _chan_ away to pack. You don’t have the heart to tell her that you’ve been packed since Wednesday – she’d probably have come up with another excuse to send you on your way.

 

Which brings you here, five hours later: on a bullet train to Osaka with your best friend asleep on your shoulder. It’s not that you _mind_ , per se, but you’d kind of hoped that she would have stayed awake just a little bit longer instead of collapsing into a comatose state two hot seconds after finding your seats. Although you (correctly) predict that she’ll be wide-awake by the time the snack cart gets wheeled through. Figures.

 

But as you sneak a peek at her, you can’t help but melt. Seeing her up close, vulnerable and peaceful, reminds you that almost everything about Kou- _chan_ is soft.

 

It’s not something readily advertised – she does her best to hide those parts of her, always failing because she’s so very _bad_ at being strict with anyone but herself – but you’ve spent the better part of eight years being everything from her mother to her lover (benefits not included): if there’s anyone who knows, it’s you.

 

Her hair is wonderfully soft when freshly washed, which isn’t often enough for your taste. Kou- _chan_ spends her life at the office, forgetting to shower for days on end – she also distinctly _does not care_ about her appearance or anything much regarding herself, leaving her hair to accumulate grime and pencils and tablet pens that end up on her shower floor when she does eventually make her way home. Even so, clean hair or not, when she bends over her desk and the long blonde tresses fall with her, you can’t help think that she looks just as ephemeral as one of the fairies she draws. How fitting for being their creator.

 

There’s the look in her eyes when she watches Aoba- _chan_ and Hifumi- _chan_ fall steadily in love with each other between their clumsy conversations and attempted lunch invitations, or when she’s a fly on the wall to yet another bickering match between Yun- _chan_ and Hajime- _chan_ , sniggering into her hand as the corners of her eyes crinkle. She doesn’t look at you the same way; it’s similar, but comes with tiny differences that you only catch because you spend too much of your time looking at her. Sometimes, her eyes will narrow in concentration or her pupils will blow wide for some reason you haven’t identified yet, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much because the only thing that doesn’t change is the way her eyes light up – even just a little bit – when she says your name.

 

You’ve always loved the way the blue in her eyes lights up, maybe because that’s the only thing about her that isn’t soft: every time they do, it hits you, _hard_.

 

But right now, the small breaths that she exhales into the crook of your neck are very, very soft and very, very arousing. They have been for the last half hour and you’re not sure how much longer you can take it before either excusing yourself to the on-train toilet or ravishing Kou- _chan_ right here in your fairly-empty carriage. Maybe you could convince her to go to the loo with you. Then you remember that you’ve been in love with her for the last seven years and found yourself in much more affecting situations than this without any defiling and that Kou- _chan_ is still blissfully oblivious to your feelings for her anyway, and slump back into your seat, careful not to jostle your shoulder.

 

You sigh.

 

Eleven hours and three changeovers to go.

 

You can do this. You can _do_ this.

 

A little voice – one you’ve been ignoring forever – niggles at the back of your mind: _But for how long?_

 

* * *

 

(KOU)

If you ever found yourself in a room with the all the world’s doors leading out of it, you’re not sure you could bring yourself to walk through the one you’re standing in front of right now without some form of persuasion. It’s not the door, which is about as plain and innocuous as doors can get – rectangular, wooden, attached to a house – but what lies behind it that truly frightens you.

 

“Ready?” Rin asks, and you’re shaking your head _no_ even as her finger moves to press the doorbell. It sounds; you barely have time to squeeze your eyes shut and make a grab for Rin’s other hand before the door is ripped open. If you opened your eyes now, it’d be like looking into a mirror twenty-odd years into the future.

 

“You’re early!” the voice from the doorway proclaims. You let your fingers slip from Rin’s as she’s enveloped in the tight bear hug you don’t even need to imagine to feel for yourself. From over her shoulder, a pair of startlingly blue eyes opens to find your own; they pull back, trace a path of the space between you and Rin and, finding no connecting point, narrow.

 

“Kou,” the woman remarks, the threatening undertone not lost on you.

 

_Just as terrifying as always._ Despite the instinctive urge telling you to run far, far away from here, you know you can’t. Not if it means leaving Rin behind. So you run a hand through your bird’s nest of hair instead, and resign yourself to your fate.

 

“Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick point before anyone mentions it: yes, I'm pretty sure that Kou is not from Osaka. It's just that the train towards the town in which I have painstakingly crafted a backstory for Kou (it's going to be Shinjō, Okayama) happens to run through Osaka. I chose it for a number of reasons which might just become apparent with the next chapter update many months from now. There doesn't seem to be any information on where she's from, unless I'm just not looking hard enough.
> 
> Just to prove that I spend much more time doing research (read: dicking around) for this story than actually writing it, here is the travel roster I put together from looking at the actual timetables and charts for the various trains and bus services. So they get to Kou's parents' place at around 9:30, I imagine: 
> 
> \- Get on 20:30 Nozomi shinkansen line from Tokyo to Okayama  
> \- Arrive ca. 24:00/0:00 at Okayama; get on train to Tsuyama (technically the last train to Tsuyama leaves at 23:41 or so, but some artistic license here)  
> \- Arrive at Tsuyama at ca. 3:00; wait a little while  
> \- Get on 5:45 train to Maniwa and arrive there at 6:30; wait again  
> \- First bus to Shinjō leaves at 8:22 and arrives there at just after 9:00
> 
> Cheers! Hope to see some of you reading the next chapter, whenever that goes up. Bye!

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Kuugenthefox - I actually have no clue who you are, but here's to you. I haven't had this much fun in a while. d(^^)b Thanks!
> 
> Everyone else - yes, this story is actually supposed to be about Aoba finally getting up the courage to pursue Hifumin. Guess what! It's told through all the other characters! Psych!
> 
> Kidding. Not for the most part - I have at least four chapters of them not appearing at all. Read the synopsis - you'll see what I'm getting at. Eventually.


End file.
